


cast me down where the devil don't go

by Lise



Series: Where the Devil Don't Go [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Extremely Dubious Consent, Human Trafficking, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Slavery, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, just fucking dubious, what am I doing you may ask? good question
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: Loki didn't quite make it off Sakaar. It's a good thing the Grandmaster can think of another potential use for him.





	cast me down where the devil don't go

**Author's Note:**

> An anon on Tumblr gave me a prompt that spiraled off into this...uh. I can't say I'm proud. But hey, who needs pride, anyway?
> 
> Thanks to my [fabulous beta](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com) who read this over, and doesn't judge me for writing the things I do. Not all heroes wear capes. If you like this and want to know more about what I do when I should be doing other things, come find me on [Tumblr](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com).

“See, this? This is just - the definition of disappointing.” 

Loki fought for consciousness, his thoughts confused, jumbled. 

“So _awful._ I really - I thought better of you, Lo, I really did.” 

Loki groaned. His muscles ached. His head ached even worse. He forced his eyes to open to slits, still groping to remember what had happened. Thor. They’d been going for the ship. Thor had said…

 _Better to let it all burn,_ he’d said, and Thor had smiled.

_I couldn’t agree more._

“Are you hearing me? I like a _response_ when I’m talking to someone.” 

Loki forced his eyes open a little further to where he could make out the Grandmaster frowning at him, looking almost sulky. It took him a moment longer to process that he was back in those heavy, magic-suppressing chains that the Valkyrie had used on him. “Ah,” he said, “I can explain.” 

“Explain? I don’t need you to _explain._ Your brother has run off with my champion, and you were seen _aiding and abetting!_ After all I’ve done for you, and this is how you repay me?”

“I was intending to see to it he didn’t get away,” Loki said, talking as quickly as he could. “Unfortunately he was quicker than I expected-”

“And tagged you with one of these?” The Grandmaster said, holding up the controller. Loki’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask for mercy, but too late. 

His teeth clicked together and for the second time in what had to be less than two hours he was spasming in the grip of that _infernal_ device, muscles locking up. He dropped to the ground, writhing like an eel, a thin whine coming out through his nose.

The Grandmaster cut it off after what must have been just a few seconds but felt a great deal longer. Loki stayed where he was, chains digging into his arm and side, and tried to catch his breath.

“Please,” he gasped out, when he could speak again. “I am not - it’s the truth.” 

“Mmm. I don’t know that - I don’t know that I believe that, sweetheart. I’m just really getting some - mixed messages, here. And I’d really - I’d _hate_ to think you were trying to lie to me. To _me!_ After all I’ve done for you.” The Grandmaster shook his head. “What am I supposed to think? Where would those ruffians - Scrapper-142, too, I can’t _believe_ it - have gotten the codes to _my_ ship? I don’t hand those out to just anyone, you know.”

Loki licked his lips. “The scrapper beat me,” he said. “She forced me to tell her, and Thor. I was trying to play along, I thought I could handle them-”

“And you were wrong. And now I’ve lost my champion, my favorite scrapper, and my planet!”

Loki fought not to quail. Oh, yes. The revolution. That they’d helped start. It was all he could do not to cringe into the floor. 

“An honest mistake,” he forced himself to say. “I swear to you--”

“ _Honest mistake._ Loki, Loki. I _try_ to be understanding, really, I do, but this is just - too much. Either you made a _huge_ mistake - not _only_ failing to capture Thor and rescue my champion, but actually _giving them the codes_ so they could get away - or, or you were actually _colluding_ with these - these _miscreants_ , and now you’re trying to lie to me about it!”

Loki’s throat closed. He stared up at the Grandmaster, paralyzed, suddenly acutely aware of his power, overpowering, _smothering,_ enough force that he could barely breathe. It occurred to him, dizzily, that he’d never really seen the Grandmaster’s true anger. 

He was terribly afraid that he was about to. 

Then the feeling suddenly faded, and the Grandmaster crouched down with a sigh, tucking a strand of Loki’s hair back behind his ear. “Look,” he said. “I am - _very_ put out with you, Lo-lo. Very, _very_ put out with you. But it’d be - such a _waste_ to kill you.” 

Loki went limp, though he suspected he shouldn’t be relieved just yet. “I’m - glad you think so,” he said gingerly. 

“But I am _not_ happy right now,” he said. “Not happy at all. I don’t like being unhappy.”

Loki swallowed. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I could do to make you...less unhappy,” he said tentatively. The Grandmaster shook his head mournfully. 

“I’m afraid all the trust is just - gone. Gone!”

Loki struggled to push himself up. “Please, Grandmaster,” he said, hating himself a little, but it was relatively easily ignored. For the sake of survival… “Let me prove myself to you.” 

“I just don’t know, Lo-lo,” the Grandmaster said, shaking his head slowly back and forth. “I just don’t know. You really - _hurt_ me, and I’m having a _terrible_ week. Did I tell you those ungrateful people _revolted_ against me?”

 _Lost my planet._ Panic started to flutter in Loki’s chest again. “Ah...we’re not on Sakaar?” 

“No,” the Grandmaster said, sounding absolutely affronted. “We’re not. We’re on a ship, in the middle of nowhere, on the way to - well, Knowhere. I’m going to have to go talk to my brother. Do you _know_ how insufferable Taneleer is? And so stingy. _Ugh._ ” He heaved a sigh. 

Knowhere. Oh, _marvelous._

“At least we’re not going _completely_ empty-handed,” the Grandmaster said. “Taneleer _does_ love rare things, and you’re - certainly a rare thing. And hey, if he doesn’t want you...there are other markets where the buyers will just go _wild_ for you.” 

Loki felt his eyes bug and he surged upward. “No-!”

The disc went off and he dropped like a stone, twitching on the floor. “You know how much I hate that word,” the Grandmaster said with a sigh. 

Loki’s inhale felt like a sob. _Fuck you, Thor._

 _This is your fault,_ murmured a quieter voice. _If you hadn’t tried to betray him…_

 _He was going to get himself killed,_ Loki thought angrily.

_And if you’d given him back to the Grandmaster, he would’ve been melted. Didn’t think that one through, did you?_

The Grandmaster cut off the charge. “Now. I think you should take some time and think about what you’ve done, all right?” He said. 

Loki didn’t have the voice to answer. 

“We’ll talk later,” the Grandmaster said. “Maybe if you’re - _very_ good, we’ll only have to pawn you temporarily.” 

Loki heard himself make a muffled, unhappy noise. The Grandmaster just shook his head and walked away, leaving Loki on the floor, in chains and barely able to move. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to think of a way out.

He wasn’t coming up with anything yet.

* * *

The Grandmaster was ignoring him.

On Sakaar, Loki had thought once or twice that he would like the Grandmaster to ignore him a little _more,_ but naturally now that he had his wish it was exactly what he _didn’t_ want. He left Loki’s maintenance to his two companions, who made it thoroughly clear very quickly that they were not open to Loki’s attempts to win them over.

Loki couldn’t actually blame them. In their place, he wouldn’t have risked it, either.

At least he’d been freed from the heavier set of chains, left with his hands cuffed and - of course - the obedience disc on his neck. Still, even with that relative freedom, he could find no way of escaping, and the Grandmaster was boxing him out.

Maybe he should be relieved at the prospect of getting away from the Grandmaster in favor of someone who might be more manageable. But the Grandmaster was at least a known quantity. Powerful, and mad, but Loki was well aware there were fates that might be a great deal worse.

“Give me another chance,” Loki said - wheedled, really. “ _Please._ ”

The Grandmaster turned, finally, and looked at him with an aggrieved expression. “Oh, Loki,” the Grandmaster said. “Loki, Loki, Loki. I like to think of myself as a - as a _nice_ person. But I can’t just allow - all those things you did to go without _consequence._ ”

“So punish me,” Loki breathed. “But don’t send me away.” 

The Grandmaster raised his eyebrows. “Sexy,” he said after a moment. “And...tempting.” 

A fearful hope rose in Loki’s stomach. He tried to look penitent and hopeful. A cowed, frightened creature ready to be brought to heel.

_And aren’t you that?_

“Sorry,” the Grandmaster said after a moment, reaching out to give Loki a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “But I just - I don’t think that’s possible. I don’t want to make anyone think they’re getting - ah. Used goods.” 

Loki thought he was going to be sick. “Are you - are you really going to-”

“Don’t worry,” the Grandmaster said. “I’ll make sure nobody pays even a _bit_ less than what you’re worth. And you’ll be helping _me!_ Which - isn’t that really what matters here?” 

The glitter in his eyes dared Loki to contradict him. A coward to the end, he didn’t, shutting his mouth and bowing his head and hoping against _hope_ that he could escape, somehow, between here and Knowhere, or at least in Knowhere’s flesh market. Maybe someone would be stupid enough to remove the cuffs restraining his magic, or the obedience disc, or both. And then he’d be gone. Maybe this was his best chance, actually. Away from the Grandmaster--

And on his own, in a hostile universe with nowhere to go. 

Oh, he was so _fucked._

* * *

They docked at Knowhere altogether too soon, though they didn’t immediately disembark.

“Now,” the Grandmaster said sternly, “you’re not going to make this difficult, are you? I _know_ you’re tempted, you rascal you, but now just _isn’t_ the time for any...funny business. I’m going to be - just _so_ upset if you can’t help me make this work.”

 _If I don’t make it easier for you to sell me?_ Loki thought. He couldn’t keep himself from glaring, and the Grandmaster frowned at him. 

“Don’t make that face,” he said. “Go on. Smile. Show off how pretty you are.” 

“I’m not a thing you can sell off,” Loki said flatly.

“Of course not,” the Grandmaster said soothingly. “Really, sweetheart, there’s no need to be so _dramatic._ ”

“ _Dramatic?_ ” Loki said incredulously, voice rising. The Grandmaster frowned more. “I think I have call to be-”

“That’s enough of that,” the Grandmaster said, and Loki’s knees buckled when the disc went off. The Grandmaster let him thrash on the floor for a while before shutting it off. He crouched down next to him. “Really,” he said, “I’m doing you a favor, when you think about it. I’m not going to be letting just _anyone_ walk off with you. I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of.” He patted Loki on the chest. “So you don’t need to worry! Stop making such a fuss and _work_ with me, here.”

Loki could feel his own glare and fought it, trying to smother his anger. He should be better than this. He was off his game. If he couldn’t salvage _something_ from this mess then maybe he didn’t _deserve_ to. 

He took a deep breath and summoned a smile. “I want to,” he said. “It’s only that I don’t want to leave you.” He let a silky purr slide into his voice, though it was hard to feel very seductive when he was still trying to catch his breath. How high _was_ the voltage on that thing? “Can you blame me?” 

The Grandmaster’s expression turned toward a pout. “You certainly seemed like you were in a hurry to leave me _before._ ”

“I was overwhelmed,” Loki said, pushing himself up so he could lean toward the Grandmaster. “I couldn’t resist. They _forced_ me to…” He let his voice quaver, ever so slightly, his gaze turn pleading. “I know I made a mistake. But will you...let me try to make it up to you?” 

Humiliation burned in his gut. But he could endure a little humiliation if it meant not being _raffled off._

“Hmm.” The Grandmaster seemed to be genuinely considering it. Tapping one finger against his lips. Loki wriggled a little closer.

“You know I can be _good,_ ” he said, letting his voice drop further. Focusing vividly on how he was going to kill the Grandmaster the second he got the chance. “Use my mouth. If I don’t...please you, nobody needs to know.” 

“All right,” the Grandmaster said at length. “I suppose _just_ once. For old time’s sake.” 

_You can do this,_ Loki thought. 

The Grandmaster took him standing, Loki on his knees, fucking Loki’s mouth slow and deep, the head of his cock hitting the back of Loki’s throat with every thrust. He fought down the urge to choke, eyes watering and spit dripping down his chin where he couldn’t swallow it, and tried to look like he was enjoying it. 

(He was. At least a little. His damned, treacherous, body and its perverse tastes.)

The Grandmaster finished, seed bitter on the back of Loki’s tongue, and let out a satisfied sigh, fingers combing through his hair. 

“Well,” he said. “That was nice.” 

Loki pulled back slowly, lapping a last few drops of semen away and looking up at him with a relieved smile. 

“It’s really,” the Grandmaster said, regret in his voice. “ _Really_ a pity.”

Loki wanted to howl. He stared up at the Grandmaster, who patted him on the head like a dog. “I’ll remember you _very_ fondly, Lo-lo,” he said. “Really, I will.” 

He pulled his pants back up and walked away while Loki was still trying to formulate a response. His stomach burned and the single loudest thought he could summon was _imagine if Thor could see me now._

He’d probably think this was a nice comeuppance.

* * *

Loki subsided into a kind of numb disbelief as they decamped onto Knowhere. He recognized that he should be fighting, but delicate as his restraints were, they were still unbreakable, and there was the disc on his neck. A palpable reminder of his new status.

The Grandmaster left him and the two women who had accompanied them - Jara and Mallex, Loki had gathered, though they’d never bothered to introduce themselves - in a moderately seedy hotel. “Off to visit my brother,” he said. “We’ll see if he wants you, eh? Maybe he will, maybe he won’t - Taneleer’s a funny fellow.”

Loki thought he was going to vomit on the Grandmaster’s slippers. He wasn’t sure which would be worse: ending up in one of the Collector’s exhibits, or auctioned off at a flesh market. The former, he supposed. Less dangerous, perhaps, but also less chance of escaping. 

Hopefully. 

“If you free me I’ll make it worth your while,” Loki tried again. Jara and Mallex ignored him, talking to each other in a language that the Allspeak stubbornly refused to translate. Loki wondered where they were from. 

He fell asleep, despondent, before the Grandmaster returned. He woke up to him petting Loki’s hair. And there was a crick in Loki’s neck. “I’m so sorry, Lo, but Taneleer turned me down,” the Grandmaster said mournfully, almost pouting. “So _picky._ Well, I’m afraid we’ll just have to find an alternative use for you.”

“Please,” Loki said weakly, reduced to begging. “Don’t.” 

The Grandmaster shook his head. “Now, you know I don’t like that word,” he said, with an admonishing finger. “Remember what I said about being good? I want you on your best behavior. Can you do that for me?”

Loki weighed his options. He could keep trying. Or he could wait, bide his time.

He might have a very narrow window of time in which to slip away. _Maybe._ If he was careful. 

He widened his eyes and nodded. “I’ll...be good.” 

“Perfect!” The Grandmaster smiled at him. “But - well, just some small assurances, right? Just to make _sure_ you don’t get, ah. Mouthy.” Loki’s stomach clenched even before the Grandmaster produced what was, unmistakably, a muzzle. 

_Where did you get that,_ Loki wanted to ask, but he probably didn’t want to know. 

“Let’s just put this on, then,” the Grandmaster said cheerfully. “It’ll - honestly, it’ll look very nice on you. Don’t you think?”

 _No,_ Loki thought. _No, no, no._

He forced a smile. “I suppose I’ll find out.”

* * *

Loki wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that the Grandmaster let him walk - restrained only by the relatively unobtrusive handcuffs, and, of course, the disc. On the one hand, it was significantly less humiliating. On the other hand, he couldn’t help but think, futile though it would be, that he should be kicking and screaming, physically dragged to his fate. 

_Bide your time. Stay calm. Wait for the opportune moment._

_Stay. Calm._

He wished there was _someone_ around who would appreciate his restraint. 

“Stop _sulking,_ ” the Grandmaster said. “Don’t you want to make a good impression?”

Loki tried to relax. “I considered an auction - sounded like fun, might drive your price up a little, but, well - I decided it’d be better to handpick someone _just_ for you.” The Grandmaster smiled at him, like he expected to be thanked for such consideration. Loki was grateful, for once, that he couldn’t answer. “This way, now,” the Grandmaster said, placing a hand between Loki’s shoulder-blades and guiding him forward. “Let’s get this business taken care of, shall we - ah, here we go!”

He caught the collar of Loki’s coat, halting him like he was a dog on a lead. Loki looked at the Grandmaster’s _handpicked buyer._

He should have asked why _this_ slaver and not another. Although maybe he didn’t want to know. 

“Hello there,” the Grandmaster said cheerfully. “I have - well, Lo-lo, step up, show yourself off - see, look at him. Gorgeous, right? I’m really - _really_ upset about losing him but, well. Hard times, you know.” 

The slaver did not look impressed. Loki looked around for escape routes. “My clients want _rare._ Doesn’t look that special to me.” 

Loki should not have been offended. His spine snapped straight and the Grandmaster patted him lightly. 

“You’d be wrong there. This is - he’s a prince, you know. Of...what was it again? Assberg?”

The slaver looked slightly more interested. “Asgard?” 

“That’s it. And a shapeshifter, isn’t that right?” 

Loki’s face felt like stone. He could feel a growl vibrating in his lungs that he was just barely holding back, rage building slowly in his chest

“Is that so,” the slaver said, taking a step in Loki’s direction. Loki jerked back, or tried, but the Grandmaster caught him; his hands twitched up to attack before he caught himself. The slaver narrowed his eyes. 

“Looks like a fighter.”

 _Yes,_ a part of Loki thought, even as another part of him knew he should be trying to play weak. Pathetic. Get them to underestimate him. His heart was pounding in his ears and his jaw worked as much as the muzzle would allow.

“He can be very feisty,” the Grandmaster allowed. Loki wanted to snarl, but that would only prove his point. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for escape routes. “But not _unmanageable._ And, ah - very _skilled._ Like I said, it’s really a pity to let him go, but, well…”

The slaver appraised him. Loki glared. “Two hundred thousand credits,” he said. The Grandmaster recoiled. 

“Don’t be _insulting!_ ” he exclaimed. “Lo-lo, can you _believe -_ no, absolutely not. He’s worth at least ten times that.” 

Loki was briefly, absurdly, flattered, before his temper came rushing back. The slaver eyed him again. 

“Seems to me he might be dangerous. Risky.” 

“Oh, but that’s half the _fun,_ ” the Grandmaster said. “And he’ll take a bit of rough handling - a lot of rough handling, really - like a _champ._ ” 

Loki’s shoulders heaved. He lunged for his magic and hit a wall; if he had a knife in hand he thought he would stick it in the Grandmaster’s throat and damn the consequences. His jaw stayed clamped stubbornly closed, for all his fighting, even as he quivered with barely restrained rage. 

“Hmm. Eight hundred thousand.”

“We won’t take below a million. Will we, sweet thing?” 

He looked at Loki like Loki could answer. Loki stared at him, almost panting. The Grandmaster smiled, reached out, and stroked his cheek lightly. Loki shuddered. 

“He can be _very_ good,” the Grandmaster said, his voice almost a purr, “if you know how to treat him right.” 

“Half payment now,” the slaver said, after a long moment, and Loki’s heart lurched into his throat. “Half later, as long as he doesn’t kill my first customer.” 

“Hear that?” The Grandmaster said to Loki. “Absolutely perfect. You’ll behave, won’t you?” His eyes glittered, touching Loki’s chin to turn his face upwards, and if Loki could have bitten his fingers he would have. Or maybe he wouldn’t have. The Grandmaster’s strange, shivery, magic ran through him and he felt briefly dizzy. He smiled. “Just a little something to keep you calm for a bit. Relax! We’ll, uh...see how things go, right? Maybe in a week or so I’ll come back, check in…” 

Loki’s stomach rolled. The Grandmaster kissed him and patted his shoulder, turning back to the slaver. 

“Done,” he said firmly. “Half now, half later.”

As easy as that. Sold and bought like a piece of meat. 

His thoughts felt dull. Subdued. Whatever the Grandmaster had done, he could feel it numbing him, pressing down on his instincts. The desire to fight was _there,_ but he couldn’t quite access it. Still, when someone tried to push him forward, at least he could manage to balk. 

“I won’t,” he said, and winced at how his voice slurred. “I won’t go. You can’t _make_ me.” The Grandmaster’s magic was too subtle, too strange, for him to pull apart. He was trapped.

“Get a move on,” someone growled. Loki laughed, a little high-pitched and hysterical.

“Or else what?” He said. “What are you going to do to me-” 

He still had the obedience disc on. Apparently the Grandmaster had passed on the controller. 

Loki fought it, he really did. But between whatever the Grandmaster had done and the pain of the disc, there wasn’t a lot he could do. Then something jabbed into the side of his neck, consciousness swam, and the oil slick of a drug in his blood pulled him down.

* * *

Loki had no idea what kind of sedative they’d used on him, but it was _nasty._ His mouth felt full of cotton and his head felt full of fog, but neither of these things were so alarming as the fact that he was bound spread-eagled to a bed and entirely naked. 

He started fighting immediately, but the Grandmaster’s handcuffs had apparently been repurposed, because his magic was out of reach and whatever material the chains were made of was strong enough to hold him. The bedpost creaked when he wrenched against it, but stretched out as he was it was hard to get much leverage. Panic made his thoughts fuzzy and he fought himself back from that edge. 

_You can handle this. You can get out of this. You still have your tongue, you can talk, this isn’t as bad as it looks._

_(This is exactly as bad as it looks.)_

At least the muzzle was gone. Though Loki could imagine all too easily why. 

He’d been _King of Asgard._ And now he was tied down, his magic bound just out of reach, on a _shithole_ of a world, for the use of whatever Norns-forsaken bastards decided they wanted a hole to fuck. 

Loki wanted to scream. Then realized there was no reason not to, and screamed at the top of his lungs until he ran out of air. 

Nobody came. He was just beginning to think they were going to leave him here to stew until he broke - and in that case, were _they_ going to be disappointed - when the door opened. He tensed immediately, craning his neck to see. 

He recognized the man who had bought him. He did not recognize the three with him. All sturdily built. All unfamiliar species. All looking at him like he was a slab of meat they were trying to decide how best to cook. 

A litany of curses started cycling in Loki’s head. He tried tugging at the bonds again, his breathing starting to quicken. _This can’t be real. This isn’t happening._

“Really?” One of the _customers_ said, turning away from Loki. “I could snap that in two like a twig.”

“I’ve been assured he’s less delicate than he looks,” said the slaver who’d _purchased_ him, and Loki snarled. 

“Put your throat in range of my teeth and I’ll show you delicate,” he snarled. 

“That’s more like it,” one of them said approvingly. Loki wanted to scream. He started fighting again, his breathing starting to come hard and fast, magic building under his skin and straining against the bindings.

“Don’t _touch_ me,” he said savagely. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” said the proprietor - the _pimp,_ Loki thought furiously, and when he got out of here-

(If he got out of here.) 

The door closed. The four of them were alone. 

“If you free me now,” Loki said, “I’ll let you live.” 

One of them sauntered over, smirking. “That doesn’t sound like a good deal.” 

“You have no idea what I’m capable of.” 

“That’s sort of what we’re here to find out,” the second said, leering. Loki realized he was starting to hyperventilate and fought to slow his breathing, torn between snarling and fighting and trying to press back like he could get away, get anywhere at all, he was going to paint this entire rotten hive red when ( _when,_ it was definitely _when_ ) he got loose-

“All right,” the Grandmaster said, wafting in. “That’s enough, this one’s mine.” 

Loki had never, _never,_ been so glad to see him in his life. He didn’t want to be now. And he never wanted to be again.

One of the - Loki had no idea _what_ to call him - scowled. “This one’s ours. We paid good money-”

“I paid better money,” the Grandmaster said with a smile. “Run along, now.” 

One of them stepped closer to the Grandmaster. Loki stared, distantly aware that he was shaking and quite sure he couldn’t stop it. 

“You can wait your turn,” he said. The Grandmaster turned his head with a smile and blinked slowly. 

“Oh, darling, that’s the thing,” he said. “I don’t think I _can._ ” There was perfect silence. “Go on, then,” the Grandmaster said, with a little shooing motion. “You can complain to the proprietor if you want.”

Loki held his breath until they left, and then slumped back onto the bed, starting to shake harder. _Really,_ he thought viciously. _This is what you can’t handle?_

“Aw, poor thing,” the Grandmaster said, and clicked his tongue. “Let’s uh, let’s get you out of here, how about it?”

“Out?” Loki said, and hated how small and pathetic his voice sounded. “You’re not. Leaving me here?”

“No! No, of course not. This was just temporary.” The Grandmaster tucked hair behind his ear, and smiled indulgently at him. “It’s all sorted out now, sweet thing, played the tables, made some - _serious_ cash, we’re all set now. Ready to go?” 

Loki let out a shaky laugh. “Norns, yes,” he said. _You’ve made your point._ The Grandmaster beamed at him and tapped him on the nose.

“Oh good,” he said. “Jara and Mallex found us a lovely new hotel room. Well, ‘lovely’ is a bit of a stretch, but…”

Loki knew when he was outflanked. He stood up, and took the Grandmaster’s extended hand. 

* * *

“You get it now, don’t you?” The Grandmaster said later, stretched out next to Loki and caressing his hip. “How - how _good_ you have it, with me?”

“Yes,” Loki said miserably. “I understand.”

“Oh, sweet thing,” the Grandmaster said, running his fingers through Loki’s hair and smiling at him, “you don’t know how happy that makes me to hear. I’m very forgiving, you see. And I do _so_ want to forgive you.” His fingers trailed down, brushing across the obedience disc embedded in his skin. “Every relationship has these little hiccups. But I think we can get those all sorted out. Don’t you?” 


End file.
